My Turn to Protect You
by Fireboat
Summary: As his relationship with Luke escalates, a parental crisis sends Reid spinning.  Will Reid welcome Luke's comforting, or will he push him away?  Dealing with the past and learning to live is never easy, but with Luke at his side, Reid thinks he can do it
1. Pitterpatter

Luke strolls into Java, whistling an unknown tune. "Isn't it a beautiful day?" His change jingles into the tip jar. The employee glances over Luke's shoulder. She shrugs, afraid to contradict the high tipper. It's about to thunderstorm and the Oakdale residents are scurrying about. Business must be finished before the rain paralyzes everyone. The town is so much quieter during a storm. Everyone huddles together and waits for the pitterpatter of rain to quiet. Only a few of the brave venture through the streets.

Luke strokes his coffee mug, waiting for it to cool. Steam coils upward and around his fingers. Ten minutes go by. He takes a sip of coffee and it scalds his tongue. With nothing in front of him to distract him, Java becomes overwhelmingly small. People crowd into booths and some shout out orders. Luke almost wishes he were at home watching the Cubs. He scans the crowd repeatedly. Thirty more minutes have passed and his coffee has now cooled completely. He can't bear to look at his watch any longer. Luke stuffs it in his back pocket, but the ticking metal still haunts him.

An employee passes by, plopping down a muffin in front of Luke. "On the house, kid. So many people in here we've run out of the specialty blend. Sorry I can't refill your order."

He thanks her and waves her away. A lone figure is barely visible, trekking toward Java. Every so often a violent wind slams rain into him. He wields a white umbrella engulfed in the tackiest floral print Luke has ever seen. Lime green roses have never looked so cheap.

Doctor Reid Oliver marches into Java, trying to retain his dignity as he brushes off small puddles of water on his clothing. He ditches the flowery umbrella and sidles pas the mobbed tables to Luke, who sits at his favorite spot by the window. "Hello," he blurts out. "I couldn't find my beeper, and then Jacob started crying, so I couldn't just—"

Luke stands and Reid freezes mid-sentence. "I—oh—I'm sorry." He looks down at the crumbled napkins. Several muffins have fallen victim to Luke's whining stomach by now.

"It's fine. You made it. That's all that matters." Luke buries him in a hug. "Oh, geez, you're soaked. That silly umbrella didn't help much, huh?" He stifles a laugh. "Stylish. I guess they don't lecture on fashion sense at med school."

Reid smiles sheepishly. "That atrocious umbrella is Katie's. I couldn't find mine, and I didn't want to be late…."

"Failed on both accounts. Wet _and _late. Well, we can fix the first one. Want to come back to my place?"

"A less crowded place would be nice. But isn't your grandmother still living with you?"

"She's going to visit family in Pennsylvania all this week with my mother." It doesn't take any more convincing for Reid to don his coat again. The two crowd under the flimsy umbrella during the mad dash to Reid's car.

After the fiasco at the hospital, Reid had a hard time convincing any rental company in Oakdale to let him drive a shiny new car. The only one they could spare was a teensy VW Bug—not even big enough for Reid's ego. The rusting hippie car sputters along the streets, which are quickly looking more and more like a disaster zone.

Reid pulls into the Snyder's driveway and tosses the umbrellas over to Luke. "Better make a run for it." Why couldn't the Snyders be like most arrogant rich people and have a garage? At least then they wouldn't be sopping wet. He yanks the keys out of the ignition and sprints to the porch awning before Luke can protest. Luke hops out of the car and hustles over, and then they're inside. For a moment, it is just the two of them in the dark, with the rain pouring down outside. The living room is hushed and all the furniture colors are muted from the lack of light. Luke can see Reid clearly, though he doesn't need to. By now he has stroked his curly hair and traced his lips so many times he practically has Reid memorized. He wonders if Reid has done the same. He wonders if his own image is imprinted in Reid's mind the along with all the neurological facts.

And then Reid flicks on the lights and the quiet moment is over. The rain starts coming indoors, so the two men trek inside and escape the torrential rain.

"If I'd wanted all this rain, I would have moved to Seattle," Reid grumbles.

"Want something to eat? I've got some cold cuts left over from a fundraiser."

"You know, I didn't think you'd serve turkey cold cuts at a fundraiser. I thought it would be more like…caviar and fancy bits."

"We just had Al's cater it. It's the most popular around here, and supporting local business isn't bad either." Luke shrugs and places the leftover containers on the counter. He shuts the fridge with his hip. Reid's mouth twitches in a smile—the move looks like an 80s party gone wrong.

Reid grabs some knives and a loaf of bread and begins concocting a towering monstrosity of a sandwich. He slathers on the mayo, the turkey, the ketchup, pickles, olives, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, peppers, mustard….By the time he's finished, not a single condiment in the kitchen goes unused. "Want a bite?"

Luke eyes the behemoth of a sandwich. "I…I think I'll just have cheese with mine. Can you seriously fit that thing in your mouth?"

Reid gobbles it down. "Mmmm, proof that God exists."

Luke goes to flick on the tv, but Reid puts his hand over his, over the remote. "Let's just sit. It's kind of nice in this quiet."

Luke grins. "Cubs are going to lose, anyway."

"Don't bash my favorite team," Reid says. He moves over to the kitchen table. "Just because they're terrible doesn't mean they aren't awesome."

"True. They do have some redeeming qualities. They're awfully attractive. Makes up for that huge ego. And they're good at what they do."

"Sure you're talking about the Cubs now?" Reid says. He drags over the chess board from the other side of the table. "How about a rematch? We never did finish the other time."

Luke flashes back to several months ago. After Gabriel had gone missing, Reid came over to "help." It was just an excuse to see Luke, but Luke didn't know it at the time. (Okay, maybe he did just a little. What other excuse did he have to let the doctor into his home?) Their chess game—and passionate embrace—was interrupted by Noah. Oh, Noah. Luke still treasured his past friendship with Noah, though he didn't seem to feel the same way. Noah decided to transfer to the University of Southern California to study filmmaking, and Luke was happy for him. Noah had a great future ahead of him doing what made him happy.

Pretty soon, Reid has Luke in check for the fourth time. "I give up," Luke groans. "You're too hard to beat." He stalks off to the kitchen for another drink. Reid follows him, dumping the chess pieces back in the box.

"My socks are still wet from the storm." Luke heads towards his bedroom to change. Reid follows him—he's only been in Luke's room once before, back when he was in search of some real food, not that microwaveable disgusting stuff that kept him fed through med school.

Reid flops on the bed while Luke rummages through his drawers. After finding the elusive socks, Luke hops onto the bed next to him.

"There's nothing that screams romance like wet-dog-smelling feet," Reid says.

"I hear they bottle it up and sell it at Macy's as a one day special for V-Day."

"Who would fall for that crap? Eau de Doggy? Not me. I'd do something special. Romantic. Memorable." The dreaded Valentine's Day was coming up this week, and Reid didn't want to sell himself short—but he didn't want to excite Luke too much, either. "Well, you'll see what I mean when the time comes."

"Really? Wow, I can't wait to see what you have in store."

"It's going to be fantastic. Nothing could be more important." Reid lets himself imagine a perfect evening out with Luke. It's been a while since Memorial has been understaffed and he's worked late hours. A quiet evening out would be perfect. But only hours later, his words would haunt him.


	2. Bishop Makes a Move

After a restful night's sleep—no shenanigans at Luke's, unfortunately—Reid woke to the sound of his beeper vibrating on the nightstand.

The beeper number that flashes across the screen is all too familiar. _Damn_, Reid thinks. Memorial buzzing him at five am on his day off—not a good sign. He creeps out of Luke's bed, sliding off the sheets slowly so as not to disturb him. Reid's hands are a little unsteady this morning due to sleeping on his knuckles. His hands spent the night smothered under the pillow. It was the only motion that could stop Reid, that he could use to hold himself back to embracing Luke all night. The pull of Luke's body and his feathery hair, soft and touchable with the gel washed out, is hard to resist.

The tiled bathroom tingles Reid's feet. Luke Snyder has lived in Oakdale his whole life. This must have been where he brushed his teeth before the first day of school, where he first noticed his budding physique—and then wondered if it was good enough for anyone.

The beeper vibrates again. "All right, all right." Reid uses his cell to dial Bob Hughes' extension at the hospital. "Hello?" Reid whispers because Luke's soft snoring is only a few feet away.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Oliver, but Dr. Hughes called in sick today. He couldn't have called you." The receptionist chuckles. Reid doesn't know why, but he thinks a lot of people chuckle when they're scared or nervous. He thought about changing for them, just once, to see how people would react. His head nurse at the time had a heart attack. (That was the end of the more-jovial-Reid experiment.)

"Dr. Oliver? Linda, you can hang up now. Thanks for fielding the call."

"Who is this?"

"Dr. Oliver, I'm so glad I caught you. My son hit his head when he dove into a pool, and now he's been having blackouts and seizures. Please, I need your help. He hasn't been able to swim since the accident. We've tried epilepsy medication, but it's ineffective."

Reid pauses, waits a beat before speaking. The distraught woman thinks he's analyzing the situation, but he calculated possible treatment options and risks already. Though his hands are shaky, his brain is not. Reid is really swallowing all the remarks his less experienced self would say. After he saw Luke's pain when Noah was in an awful place, he tries to be a little nicer.

Sometimes, the snide comments escape anyway. "I could give him an inner tube."

"Please, just tell me he can be helped. You're the best in the field. Please. He's only ten. He has his whole life to live."

"If the medication hasn't worked, there are two options: wait for the brain to heal itself, which could take months of therapy and not work at all, or the surgery."

"You'll do the surgery?" she says eagerly.

"The surgery has a high improvement of the quality of life, but the dangers are equal, if not greater, compared to the benefits."

"What do you suggest?"

"Do the therapy. The first few months are the most important. Other than that, try to have him live a normal life. Call me any time if you have questions, and send the updated reports to my office at Memorial."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Oliver."

Reid hangs up. "I can't see why it couldn't wait till morning, though. If she expected me to be less of a grouch at five am…" He's not exactly a morning person, but he knows his time with Luke has mellowed him out a little. He flicks off the fluorescent lights and tiptoes back into bed. Reid's wide awake now, but Luke is still having a snoring marathon. He languishes under the covers for a while, savoring the heat emanating from both their bodies.

A few days later at Memorial, Linda winks at him.

"Do you have something in your eye?" Reid snaps.

"I hear you're in the running for an award tonight at the annual dinner. I hope you get it. You certainly deserve it."

His gaze softens and he manages a small smile. "Thank you," he says, a little dazed. Dinner? What awards dinner? Damn Bob's flu. It's put him behind on all his paperwork. Since this is Reid's first year at Memorial, he didn't know there was an "annual" dinner. It doesn't help that Reid's been spending the last couple of nights at Luke's, either. He hasn't even ventured to check his email, much less seen the memo buried under piles of photo attachments from Luke. Luke believed there could never be enough lolcats in one's inbox.

Luke! Oh, no, Reid thinks. Tonight is the awards dinner. Tonight is also the night I promised Luke would be fantastic. I'm the worst date in the world on Valentine's Day. He hopes the drive across town in the junk bucket will give him some ideas.

But the dinner is at nine, and Reid is supposed to pick Luke up for dinner at seven. What kind of V-Day date ditches his boyfriend in the early evening? A crappy one, that's what.

The phone rings, and Reid jumps up from the couch, where he aimlessly shifts the bishop across the board. He doesn't want to be too early—or too late. Is fifteen minutes early too early? Is five minutes late too careless? He has no idea.

"Hello?" he says, hoping it isn't Luke. What if his care broke down? What if the restaurant went on fire. He tries to swallow the desperate, anxious tone in his voice. _Stop being ridiculous, _he tells himself. _It's just a date. The most important date ever._

"Good luck tonight," Katie says.

"Oh, it's you." Reid out a sigh of relief. "How's the retreat going?"

"Don't even try to change the subject. I want details—where are you going, what are you doing after—"

"After?" He glances at the clock. Five to seven—if he hurries, he can get there at seven exactly. "Gotta go. I'll tell you all about this fiasco later. I hate Valentine's Day." He swipes the phone back on its hook and snatches his coat from the table.

"I bet you look handsome. I hope you and Luke have fun."

Luke paces by the door. Reid is hardly ever late, and he wouldn't be late for such a special occasion—would he? Luke adjusts his black tie, with its stiffening grip around his neck. When Reid knocks, Luke is so thrilled he practically pulls the door off its hinges. "Hey!"

Reid steps inside, blushing. "Hey, you."

Luke takes his hands and clasps them within his. "Happy Valentine's Day." They kiss, lightly at first, more tender than passionate. Reid wraps his arms around Luke, pulling him closer. The kiss becomes fierce and desperate, tongue running over tongue. It's as if each of them have been searching their whole lives for the other, and now that they're finally together, they're terrified to let go.

Reid takes a break for air first, feeling guilty. He shouldn't be setting Luke up for this night of disappointment. He gently slides Luke's hand off his face and the other off his waist. He inhales deeply. Luke is intoxicating. It's hard to concentrate, but he needs to try to pull himself away. He's getting too close. He _wants_ to be too close. Reid's brain fights his body.

"Was that a bit too much? Need a breather?" Luke laughs, cocks his head to the side. "I'll go a little slower next time."

"No, you were great…that was great." Reid smiles slightly. He hates to spoil this evening. Luke looks…shiny, almost. Like a broken little toy being fixed and polished up to treasure once more. Reid knows he'll always treasure Luke—but will Luke still know this when Reid leaves him behind for the dinner? He only chose his career over Luke once before, and that was when he thought Luke was taken. "It's nothing, really. I'm just a little dizzy, that's all."

"What? Maybe you should lie down."

"It's probably just too much caffeine buildup," Reid lies. To say Luke's happiness is overwhelming him, making him shake all over, would be too corny. Luke puts his hands on his forehead. "Stop babying me, I'm fine. Come on, I have reservations at the restaurant."

Though the place is renowned for their excellent service, an hour after they're seated, their food still hasn't arrived. Reid can't help checking his watch under the table.

"Is everything okay?" Luke says.

Reid hesitates, glancing frantically around for the waiter and an easy escape. No such luck.

"Reid?"

"I'm the worst boyfriend you've ever had, and that includes that douchebag, Noah. I'm too much a coward to tell you why I'm a wreck tonight."

"If you're nervous because I was afraid I wouldn't like it, don't worry, I—"

"It's not about you!" Reid snaps. Luke's face falls. "Shit, no, I didn't mean it like that. I mean—you're not he problem. You're wonderful."

"Am I? Aren't you about to get up and walk away from me?"

"What? How did you—"

"So it's true. Some guy is paging you early in the morning to thank you for a good time the other day and you want to go pay him for a visit. You didn't think I heard you creeping to your phone in the middle of the night? Aren't I good enough for the famous Dr. Reid Oliver?" Luke throws his napkin on the table. "You know what? I'm done."

Reid reaches across the table and grabs Luke's hands, almost spilling over the drinks in the process. The salad bowl teeters terrifyingly close to the edge of the table.

"Memorial's annual awards dinner is tonight," Reid blurts out. "Now, to be specific. The gossip mill is saying I'm getting Surgeon of the Year—which just might make Doogie cry, seeing as I've been here just about eight months. It would have been awesome to see his face."

"Would have been?"

"I'm staying with you, Luke. I'll always stay with you, if you'll have me."

Luke leaves his arms crossed. "But what about the incredible Beeper Boy?"

"Just a concerned patient's parent. A mom."

Luke exhales deeply, trying to take it all in. "So you're _not_ seeing anyone."

"I know I try to be a good person for you, but the reality is, most of the world thinks I'm a hardass jerk. And sometimes, I am. But I'd hoped, from this one night on, I could plant you in front of my ego and career and you could stay there. Luke Snyder, you are the most incredible person I've ever met." Luke looks up from glaring at his napkin, startled. Reid leans over the table, the salad bowl shakes, and he kisses Luke on the cheek.

Luke smiles, his sternness slipping away. "I'm sorry I was suspicious."

Reid settles back in his chair. "Happens to the best of us." He turns off his beeper under the table. Tonight belongs to just him and Luke.


	3. I've Got You

For a change of place, after dinner, the two go back to Reid's place. Katie is on a single mothers' retreat with Jacob in Chicago for the weekend.

_I guess I knew in my heart I wasn't really leaving Luke for the award_, Reid thought, looking around the apartment. _I went a little overboard with the cleaning. It's an apartment, not an operating room. No need to be perfect. _The counters shine, pristine and scrubbed free of mustard and other sandwich-making smudges. Reid pats the counter, admiring his work. _There's no need, but I want it to be perfect, anyway._

Luke makes a beeline for the back bedroom. Reid trails behind reluctantly, wondering if he went over the top.

Inside, what was once a small, depersonalized stock bedroom is Reid's haven. An ebony desk adjacent to the door, normally with medical paperwork strewn across it, is now covered with a white linen tablecloth. Photos of Luke and Reid—serious ones, goofy ones taken in a photo booth, and some of just Luke with a huge grin plastered on his face. When he was with Reid, hardly anything could prevent that smile from creeping across his face.

"Wow." Luke runs his fingers along the photo frames. "I didn't know you'd kept all these." He moves onto the bureau by the bedside, where there are unlit candlesticks and a lighter. Reid steps over and lights them carefully, cupping the flickering flame with his hand to protect it from the light breeze. He flicked the ceiling fan on as he walked in. He dims the lights and walks back to Luke, almost swaggering. Luke meets his intense gaze and leans forward, almost tipping onto his toes. Their collision means lips tenderly meeting each other, hands on cheeks, then hair, then waist, and then they're unbuttoning each other out of the formal clothing. Cotton slides to the floor eagerly, morphing into pools of fabric. The escape from stiff cloth is a giddy one, and they pile into the bed to savor Valentine's Day.

Luke is kissing, tracing a line down Reid's torso, as exact as a surgical incision. He caresses Reid's chest and leans his forehead gently against it as he moves further below. This is the most intimate they have ever been, and although Luke expected to be nervous, he is completely calm. He feels completely warm and safe against Reid, and somehow he knew it would be like this. His heart pounds in his chest so hard he feels it might break through with this huge happiness welling up inside of him.

The phone rings. The blaring tone sends Luke veering away from his perfect kissing line.

"We'll let the machine get it."

"'S okay. Mmmmmm." Luke reached Reid's belly button and traced it.

"You monster, that tickles."

The ringing ceases, but less than ten seconds later, it starts up again. Luke's lips are smooth over Reid's torso again. "Your skin is so soft."

"So's yours." Reid strokes Luke's hair. He runs his fingers along his scalp, and Luke feels every nerve on his head tingle. _Is this what touching happiness feels like?_

The phone finally—finally—stops ringing. "Thank god. I was about to go unplug it myself."

"Go? Noooo," Luke says, mishearing him. "We've barely started."

"Your turn," Reid says, leaning forward. He kisses Luke's forehead, wraps his arms around his waist, and pulls him close and kisses his neck. He skims Luke's torso and sails downward until—

The doorbell rings. "Nnngh," Reid groans. "I ought to live in a cave for all the privacy this apartment gives me."

"Don't stop," Luke says. For once in his life, he's thinking only of himself, and how _wonderful_ this is. How wonderful he's feeling right now, better than he has in a long time.

Reid moves onto Luke's thighs, crouching on his knees, now on the bed. The doorbell shrilly rings again, once, twice, three times. Reid banishes the sound to the recesses of his mind. He's used to shutting out chattering nurses at the hospital. This isn't any different. Luke is a little more concerned.

"Maybe Katie forgot her keys?"

"She's not due back till Sunday."

"As much as I hate to say it—"

"Don't say it, then." Reid pulls Luke even closer and whispers in his ear. "Let's be quiet and pretend we're not home." He nuzzles his ear and Luke leans into him, sighing.  
"Reid, don't be difficult." Luke begins to untangle himself from Reid.

Reid sighs, pulling away. He yanks on his pants and pecks Luke with another kiss before heading out into the hallway. "You're too damned considerate. This had better not be UPS."

"Reid Oliver?" A man in a suit stands in the doorway. He's not from Oakdale—Reid would have seen him in this claustrophobia-inducing little town. If this had been any other day, he might like to commiserate with the man for visiting Oakhell. He might even had offered him a consolatory cup of coffee. Nah, probably not. Reid likes keeping his coffee time brief and as a means to an end, not as his time to socialize. Who was he kidding? He didn't have time to socialize.

"I'd like a word, if you don't mind." The man scuffs his shoes on the doormat.

"I _do_ mind, in fact. It's Valentine's Day. Hey—what—oh my god, you're coming inside?"

"I'm ever so sorry for interrupting your evening, Mr. Oliver. But I'd really like to come inside."

Reid clears his throat. "It's _Dr_. Oliver. Who are you, exactly?"

"I'm a friend of your father's."

Reid swings the door wide open, slamming it against the wall. "Get the hell out right now."

"Reid?" Luke appears in the hallway, and he's slipped his boxers on. "What's going on?"

"This man was just leaving."

"But what does he want?"

"He's friends with my father, and that's reason enough for me for him to leave."

"Please, I came all the way from Dallas because no one could reach you by phone."

Luke steps closer to Reid protectively, but he feels a little unguarded in just boxers. He feels like he might have to work extra hard to protect him when only silk comes between himself and the man. Luke stares questioningly at the man, sizing him up. He's middle-aged, sure, but he's already balding at the crown of his head. His suit is designer, but worn and has seen better days. And he knows that look in his eyes. That all too sad, desperate look. "Let him speak."

"I think you should sit down."

"I can take it," Reid says.

The man tilts his head slightly forward, keeping his gaze steady. "Your mother is in a coma."

"It's about time that bastard died—wait, what?" All color, or what little color he had before, drains from his face. "Mom? What happened?"

"Drunk driver," the man says. "Her vitals don't look good." Reid rubs his forehead, brushes past Luke, and collapses on the couch. The soft leather whooshes out its extra air, and the couch molds around Reid like an extra shield. "No, that's crazy. She—she hates cars, avoids them no matter what."

"I have a reserved ticket on the next flight back to Dallas, and a car booked to Medical City. So do you. I suggest you go now, while you can."

"While I can?" Reid echoes. His voice cracks. Luke rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. Reid swallows his fear, realizing where he is. "Don't leave me. Please, I can't be alone right now."

"I only have one extra ticket," the man says.

"I'll take care of it. We'll take the jet and meet you at Medical City." Luke doesn't tell Reid everything's going to be fine. Sometimes life doesn't work out that way. He knows not everyone is as lucky as his mother was.

Reid has never felt so helpless before. He feels like a shell of his old shelf, clinging to Luke and watching the man dial the cab service. He snuffs out the candles, tosses some clothes into a duffle bag, and scrawls a post-it to Katie, tacking it on Jacob's high chair. Luke guides him out to the car and he slides into the passenger's seat without thinking. The lights on the vacant road seem too bright to him, and he shuts his eyes. Only a little while ago, this was the best night of his life. Now he's just hoping for a happy ending.

Statistics whirl in Reid's head. Only a small percentage of coma patients wake lucid. Strokes and body paralysis, as well as brain damage, are common. Reid leans his head against the window. The cool seeps through to his forehead, but does nothing to ease his headache.

Luke practically has to drag Reid up to the jet because he's so out of it. "Don't worry, I've got you."


End file.
